


Compliments Your Eyes

by Shatterpath



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Almost Kiss, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Steve Rogers, Artists, Becasue Angie makes everything better, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Morning After, Party, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Random Encounters, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-04-03 09:39:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4096093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/pseuds/Shatterpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Recent art school graduate Steve has as much talent as sass packed into his scrawny frame. Because of that, the elite that frequent his pal's shop are a barely tolerated irritation that finally boils over. Peggy makes a first impression that leaves much to be desired, but makes up for it in spades. Their first date is both a hit and disaster that leads to a new friend and a night of shenanigans none of them will forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is all the fault of RainbowRiddler and comicbooklovergreen. You enablers you!
> 
> So, a list of prompts floats across my monitor and one catches my eye. Oh sure, I tried to ignore it, but NOOOOO, it's got the hook in and I'm sunk.
> 
> Jewellery shop AU  
> • ‘I’m the employee and this is the first time ever I’ve met you but you buy me a necklace saying the gem compliments my eyes’ AU
> 
> As a side note, because sometimes I have to brag, I saw the list at 11:26 and this one caught my eye. I know this because I mentioned it on IM! And done at 4, almost on the money. Told you they ran away with me!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's signature pieces were hard-edged and striking, shining sharp edges in contrast to dark, organic lines. He had a very specific clientele and not a small amount of wannabes that kept him busy. In contrast, Natasha was poetry in motion, pieces so ethereal and delicate no one could figure out how they stayed together, much less kept their shape. Her hoity-toity fanbase could keep twelve artists busy and twice that many salesbodies employed. She would never be able to keep up and the who's who loved it. The pieces had no names, just a random assortment of Russian letters and numbers that Steve was pretty sure was just Nat being perverse. He had been so intimidated to meet his childhood best freind's partner when he'd returned home from art school, but they'd hit it off instantly. Natasha appreciated sass and charm and Steve provided both.
> 
> It seems he was going to need it with this client.

The woman was a looker, he'd noticed that the moment she'd stepped into the gallery with grace and an attitude that let her own the room. And this was no easy room to own. He'd known instantly that he was the wrong person to be tending to this powerful character, but there was no way in hell Bucky or Natasha were escaping their current customers. It was a freakishly busy day at the gallery and both artists weren't happy to be dragged from their studios, in filthy smocks and stinking of solder and fire. It was their job to craft, not sell, but it was all hands on deck.

Though, if they sold even a tenth of what they were pulling from the cases for the browsers, the end of day tally was going to be epic.

That boiled down to the haughty brunette falling to him. So he'd pasted on his best 'impress the professor' smile and waded into the fray with a stout heart.

Unfortunately, good looks and sexy British accent or not, she was proving to be just another well-dressed, impatient jerk who wanted to be anywhere else. New York was always overflowing with them, no matter what their plumbing was, those that had decided money was more important than anything else. What a horrible way to live.

"Excuse me, is there someplace you'd rather be?"

Now sure, Hot British Lady had racked up a hell of a big purchase, making a sizable dent in some of Natasha's line pieces that were designed, but not made by her, and a really striking piece from Bucky's 'Winter Solder' line worth a month's rent in Flushing, but they'd been at this for nearly two hours now. Steve was not a man known for his patience and the constant crap he took from the rich assholes of this city was exhausting even to those with patience to spare. So yeah, there were plenty of other places he'd rather be than dealing with this prickle bush of a client.

Frankly, he wanted a sandwich.

It took a moment for Steve to realize that he'd said the words out loud, his pale eyes rounding in horror.

Clearly startled, the woman blinked and her entire face changed. In an instant, the hard-edged bitch-in-charge melted away, her angular features softening as she reached up to rub carefully manicured fingers between her brows. "I'm terribly sorry... Steve was it? I'm afraid I've taken out a terrible day on you. How utterly unfair of me."

Now was Steve's turn to be startled as the three-sixty in attitude. Without stopping to think, he just reacted, reaching out to gently grasp her right wrist so that he could wrap his other hand around hers in a handshake. "I think I can find it in me to forgive you. Steve Rogers, pleased to meet you."

The red-painted mouth quirked into a warm smile that made something low in his belly give a little kick. She was a natural beauty to be sure, but that smile nearly knocked him on his ass. That hand, sturdier than his own slender offering, curled up with a hint of hidden strength that left his busy mind curious. "Peggy Carter, and I'm pleased to meet you as well. I truly am sorry for being such a bitch."

That made him bark out a laugh, earning a sharp look from a harried and annoyed Bucky that he completely ignored. He loved the guy like a brother, but let him deal with his own fame for awhile. With a little jerk of his head towards the stack of boxes worth a small fortune, Steve smiled widely. "I'd say you earned it."

Thankfully, she chuckled at his sass, a low, smoky sound that gave him far too many wrong ideas. Particularly when she groaned and ducked her head to shake it before rubbing her temples. "Oh, if only it were the case. This is merely an annoying errand I somehow allowed myself to be talked into."

"That kinda boss, huh?"

Again, Peggy laughed and damned if that wasn't an addictive sound.

"Of a sort, but you don't want to hear the trials of a stranger."

"Now, you don't know that."

Again, he'd startled her, surprise mixing with amusement as Steve felt his cheeks heat. He hadn't meant to sound quite so... flirtatious. The blush didn't retreat as she flashed that warm smile again before dropping her eyes, something soft there that-- if he had a damn clue about women-- looked almost shy. When she reached out to take the fingers of his left hand in hers, rubbing at the deep calluses left by his art, he was too startled to resist her touch.

"This is a beautiful piece, it suits you so well. You made it, didn't you?"

Flabbergasted, he nodded before reminding himself she wasn't looking at him and managing to force out, "yeah, how did you know?"

"Because it perfectly accentuates that scar."

Delicately, she traced the simple wave-like shape where it coiled around a painstakingly carved chip of mica decorated with tiny strands of seaweed and a single shadowy fish. And, just as she said, beneath it lay the whitened scar where he'd burned himself nearly right down to the bone so many years ago.

"No one's ever noticed," he managed to say quietly, caught up in the strange intimacy with this attractive stranger. Her eyes, when they came up, were impossibly dark and liquid, making Steve feel like he could fall forever.

"Then I suppose no one has ever looked closely enough."

A sharp burst of laughter across the room shattered the bubble of intimacy, both of them retreating away from their blended personal spaces, clearly embarrassed.

"Do you... have any of your work here?"

Reluctant to give up his time with her, Steve set aside his embarrassment and nodded. "A few. I only just got back to New York after studying abroad, so it's pretty limited. Hang on a sec."

It was a relief to jump up from his seat and scamper away to get a moment's breathing room. This Peggy Carter had him all flustered, a fact Bucky was quick to take a moment to tease him about. "Got yourself an admirer, scarecrow. Nice."

"Shut up, ya jerk."

At least he'd been kind enough to step back to the glass cases behind the floor units where there was the smallest bit of privacy. Natasha had no such compunctions, slapping him on the ass as he slipped past, prize in hand. "Go get 'em, tiger."

Not surprisingly, Bucky only laughed as Steve flushed again. At least most of the customers were gone...

Somehow Steve managed to not trip over himself at that smile, settling back into his seat with all the grace of a half-grown colt. Boy was he a mess. The big brown eyes widened as Peggy trailed her red nails over the scant eight pieces nestled in padded velvet. 

"They're really just glorified student pieces, because I'm new at this. More of a brush and pen kinda guy, that's me, but who could pass up learning from these two, y'know? And sculpture is a terrific challenge, 'pecially when you gotta shrink it down to this scale... and I'm rambling aren't I?"

Really, that smile needed to come with some sort of health warning.

"No, I find your enthusiasm infectious. These are really lovely and I promise I'm not prone to false flattery."

Remembering the hard, irritated persona she'd worn earlier, Steve believed the statement. 

\----

How easily this stranger had charmed her from a horrible day. First with sheer attitude and now with a puppyish enthusiasm and an odd sensuality she couldn't quite put her finger on. It didn't matter that he was a small man, slender to the point one had to wonder at his health, for she was drawn in by those summer sky eyes, his engaging personality, that sly grin and scarred artist's hands.

Besides, she was always appreciative of attitude, and this man had it without the overblown ego of far too many of his fellows. Who could blame her for being intrigued?

"Where did you study?"

Whatever reaction Peggy had been expecting, the embarrassed smirk wasn't it. "Would you believe me if I said California?"

There was no stopping the peal of delighted laughter. "Oh, you are a cheeky thing! Spoken like a true New Yorker. Here I thought you were going to brag that you'd only just been from, how would you say it? My neck of the woods?"

Now he mingled his laugh with her own, clear blue eyes bright. "I almost did! Both the Edinburgh College of Art and The Düsseldorf Academy accepted me."

"Now I'm even more curious," Peggy teased, completely charmed by his lack of ego about two very prestigious schools vying for his attendance. "What made you shun Europe?"

The mock frown and the roll of those gemstone eyes nearly made her laugh again, raising her hands to press against her lips to keep the sound in.

"I didn't 'shun' Europe," Steve sassed. "I just wanted to get away from horrible winters for the first time in my life. So I followed the old adage; go west, young man!"

With a grand sweeping gesture into the distance, he nearly swept his lamp right off the table and Peggy found herself dissolving into laughter once more. "Oh, you are a charmer!"

"I'm a goofball," he shrugged with a self-depreciating smile. "But if you think it's charming, that's okay with me."

"I do."

That was how Peggy found herself unloading the whole sordid tale on the poor man, of her old pal Howard's mad scheme to give her purpose after the bullets in her shoulder had destroyed her military career as she knew it. Wandering aimlessly about the world on her severance pay while her shoulder healed hadn't settled her restless spirit, so she'd finally given in to The Big Apple. It was busy enough to keep her mind occupied, but she still felt no roots. And being Howard's pal and sidekick and Girl Friday was mildly entertaining but irritating and utterly did not suit her.

"Though it pays well," she sighed and fought a blush when she realized Steve was finishing up a take-out cup of something thick she suspected was a milkshake of some sort. The artist in residence, the broody thing, had plunked it down a bit ago with a glower at both of them. Steve had ignored the bigger man's glare, attacked the cup and gestured impatiently for her to keep talking.

"Stark, huh? Big, ugly building behind Grand Central? That's gotta be tough."

It was an odd statement and Peggy said as much, earning another engaging smile.

"Day in and day out, that sort comes through here with no other goal than to be among the rich and shiny. You faked it well before I gave you lip and made you smile, but you're much more relaxed an animated now. It's nice. Workin' around too many impatient, plastic people gets exhausting."

It was so true. While the perks were nice in the material sense, it felt too much like a false role she had no desire to play any longer. Trying to absorb the revelation, Peggy reached out to once again caress the small, sweeping pieces of jewelry made by those pale, sensitive hands. "Would you tell me a bit more about your work?"

"Sure, I'd like that. See, I was hoping to come up with some shapes that weren't too extreme to either end of the masculine-feminine scale in jewelry. Something that a little guy like me could wear, y'know? And the Pacific Ocean is so different than the Atlantic, kinda calm and blue and soothing. Even their storms were hardly a spit in the eye."

Steve spoke on about the influence of surf and sky and the scorch of sun while-- like before-- his half-unlearned Brooklyn accent grew thicker and thicker in his passion. A barometer of sorts to his mood. It was as refreshing as a cool breeze in August, the honesty of him, and Peggy was so entranced that another person entering their space made her jump.

Natasha didn't speak a word, only setting down a darkly blue jewelry box, giving Steve a strangely significant look and walking away. Peggy only knew the enigmatic woman by reputation, it was how she had found herself at this particular gallery in the first place. So, curious now, she picked up the box and opened it, instantly smitten with the pendant within. It had to be his work, the same, sleek, organic lines like water or sand, or the curves of the body. Nestled in the center was a flash of blue the color of his eyes and as deep as the ocean.

Utterly ignoring the five digit price tag-- Howard would just have to suck it up-- she held out the box. "Yes, I believe the artist is quite right. I'll happily take that too, it's beautiful."

Startled, Steve eyed the piece. "Oh... I didn't even know this was done. Wow." To cover up his wonder, he flashed a teasing grin at Peggy. "You sure? It's different than your earlier shopping list that I realize now is Stark's, right? And red seems more your color. Not this pretty sapphire."

"But it is your color," she said without thinking and this time, she did flush, but her mouth ran on even as her brain spluttered in shock. "I know it's terribly forward, but I have this horrid function I said I would attend and I don't have a date and you've been such marvelous company it would be a wonderful chance for you to wear that and show off your work..."

Those gentle, calloused artist's hands fell over her own, Steve's smile shy, but delighted.

"I'd love to, Peggy. A guy like me doesn't get such a great offer very often."

"Their loss."

What had started out as a really frustrating sale had turned into something far more interesting. It felt like a beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy's spontaneous invitation comes to fruition and the new couple make an unexpected friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot I had more to this one! The muses had so much fun with the first bit, that this came along as well. Creativity willing, there'll be a bit more as well!

Bucky laughed and got into the expected sass fight with Steve over his spontaneous date, but it was Natasha who slapped both of them alongside the head and took the time away from her art to drag him out to get a proper suit. She even talked him into trying something cut to his slight frame in a subtle, deep green that was surprisingly snappy with a snowy shirt and classic black bowtie. When he choked the price, the redhead waved it off. Frankly, he'd more than earned the perk and there was no arguing with her. Then it was a rewarding hour getting his best boots shined up to a gleam that would have made even his grouchy Army grandfather grudging proud before getting cleaned up and groomed. Then phone, keys, wallet and his little medical kit and he was off to hail a cab.

Manhattan at night was always a glorious sight, but he forgot about it when he spotted his unexpected date, waiting outside the Tower to meet him. Swiping his card through the reader for the fare, Steve hopped out and approached Peggy, taking in the form-fitting darkly red dress that was such a striking difference from her earlier business armor.

"Hiya Peggy. You... wow. You look amazing."

"Well thank you, Steve." Not giving herself a chance to second guess the urge, Peggy reached out to straighten the neat bowtie snuggled under Steve's collar. "Really, your Hell's Angel friend must have tied this."

Steve couldn't help but laugh, even with the distraction of her voluptuous frame and devastating grin so close. "No, but that would have been a good guess. This is all me and my pal the mirror. That's what I get for letting Natasha talk me into a real tie."

Suddenly self-conscious, Peggy pulled her hands away, fearing suddenly that she was treating him like a little boy. While his stature didn't bother her a whit, she had no idea if it bothered him. "I'm sorry, being so familiar..."

Catching her hands in his, Steve smiled reassuringly. "It's okay, Peggy. You're the one that's gotta to look at me, right?"

Giving her hands a little tug, Steve dropped his grip and she hesitated a moment before reaching under his chin to finish neatening his tie, smoothing her hands away from it to feel the hard line of clavicles beneath the suit. "There, you look rather dashing. Oh! Wait."

Steve was startled to see her pull the blue jewelry case from her little purse. "You were serious?"

"Of course I was serious. Steve, I asked you to this for my own pleasure, but there's no reason you shouldn't show off your work. Didn't you notice that I'm wearing your pieces?"

"Sorry, the lighting out here is rotten. Tell ya what, it'll be a surprise, right? Seeing them on you, I mean. Go ahead, put it on me. Still can't believe you bought the sapphire just to make me wear it."

His tone was wry rather than miffed, so Peggy eagerly pulled the necklace from its case and fiddled open the clasp before holding it up around his narrow neck. While Steve couldn't complain about the view of her generous cleavage, he felt it rather rude to ogle, tilting his head back to watch her intent face. What a different sort of woman she was, particularly compared to the spoiled money that traipsed through the gallery! Thoughtfully, Peggy shortened the chain up until the gleaming piece of art nestled nicely just above the first visible button and below the tie.

"May I see the back of your collar, please?"

With a bit of wrestling with jacket and collar, Peggy had fastened the clasp well down the chain, letting the extra inches drape since they would hidden by the dark jacket. Then she happily resettled the fabric, smoothing her hands over his shoulders before realizing she was getting handsy again. Steve was smirking when he turned, squaring up his small frame, chin raised haughtily.

"How do I look?"

"Very handsome."

That pleased him, the throaty timbre of her voice a thrill, and he gallantly offered an arm that Peggy willingly took.

"Shall we?"

"Indeed."

Stark Tower was an ostentatious edifice of steel and glass, no shock to Steve, considering where it was located. "The lobby's nice," He commented as they strolled though the massive banks of soil containing full-grown trees and accompanying greenery and flowers. "Though the Astroturf is a bit much."

Again, Peggy found herself laughing. "It is rather like something that should be installed beside a pool. Or on a playing field."

"Good thing I wore my cleats then."

Peggy glanced down to see that he was in thick-soled shoes with deep treads more suited to hiking than a black-collar event, though the mirror shine was impeccable.

"Well, it would be a shame to scuff such an elegant shine."

"Think your pal Howard would let us play soccer down here?"

Dancing about like he had a sports ball, Steve nearly tripped himself up and sent Peggy into more laughter.

"Maybe I better stick to baseball, huh?"

While they waited for the elevator with a small crowd, Steve admired the flash of his handiwork resting just at the leading edge of the shadowy dip of Peggy's cleavage and the sparkle of silver dangling from her ears.

"You make 'em look good, Peggy."

"An excellent collaboration then."

It was a thrill for Steve to have this gorgeous, statuesque babe flirt so openly with him, for he had so often been discounted for his small stature and sickly build. Admittedly, he'd grown healthier in California's warm, dry climate-- even getting a few more pounds on his frame and evening out his breathing-- but it was a small change. Yet, she still looked at him like he was simply a guy she was attracted to and wanted to know better. It was a rush.

The elevator whisked upward so far and so fast that Steve felt it in his inner ear and surreptitiously dug out his inhaler for a reassuring burst of relief to his always-weak lungs. Even with his fumbling, Peggy remained on his arm and he could feel the slight growing tension in her.

"What does plastic do when you poke at it?"

Startled and confused, Peggy looked at her date. "Plastic?"

"It cracks or bends. Let's go poke some plastic, huh?" 

Remembering his earlier comments about the rich and privileged, Peggy stifled her delighted laughter and tugged him into the fray. Unsurprisingly, Howard was the center of attention, women and men clustered to his high energy and well-known sense of fun. 

"Pegs!" He bellowed and lit up like a high-strung dog seeing one of his favorite people.

"Brace yourself," Peggy warned under her breath and Steve grinned around a low chuckle.

"You came!" Pausing in his enthusiasm, Howard took in the stranger she held onto and his expression turned positively sly and filthy. "And you brought a date! Excellent!" Steve was taken aback by the blinding, welcoming grin and a hand held out in open welcome. "Howard Stark, delighted to meet you!"

In both the open acceptance of the greeting and the firmness of handshake that didn't need to be an overt show of strength, Howard Stark actually made a decent first impression. It was something Steve hadn't expected. "Steve Rogers. Pleased to meet you too. Beautiful place you have here."

"Flattery," Howard cackled and kept his grip on Steve's hand even as he leaned in to plant a sloppy, whiskery kiss on Peggy's cheek. "I like you. Any friend of Peggy's is welcome to take advantage of my generosity any time. How'd you two beautiful people meet?"

There was something overtly friendly, but also sly in Howard's eyes and Steve realized that the man was more than just joviality and money. 

"I work with Natasha and Bucky."

The sly look transferred to Peggy. "So that's where you went. Good eye."

As Peggy had suspected they would, the two men fell into chatting about the miniature art of jewelry, their back and forth half admiring and half shrewd negotiation. Too soon-- and with notable reluctance-- Howard allowed himself to be dragged off. "Hey, Steve, this has been fascinating. If you have a free night, swing by for dinner so that we don't have to deal with the rabble, huh?"

"You got it, Howard. Sorry, Peggy, I didn't mean to ignore you."

"Quite alright, darling," she replied happily and tried not to cringe at the endearment falling out of her mouth. "Howard is rarely so authentically taken with strangers. I could see it in his eyes. Now, brace yourself, you're about to become very popular."

Steve had never talked so much about his art in his life. It was both exhilarating and exhausting. While he was perfectly aware that many of his rotating audience were more enamored of his famous employers than himself, he held his own and impressed many of the plastic people he mocked out of the limelight.

And it wasn't just art either, for subjects ranged over a wide variety of themes. While he had no clue or interest on their various businesses, love lives or where the rich and bored traveled to be pampered, there was just as much politics, sports and various random topics. He and Peggy came together at times, drifted apart at others. It was at one of those latter points when Howard staggered over, clearly no longer sober, but in excellent spirits. With a tolerant, exasperated sigh, Peggy propped him up when he hung himself all over her.

"Hiya Pegs, you're the best, ya know that?"

"Yes, dear boy, you tell me frequently, but do carry on."

Deep in a case of giggling hilarity, Howard did his best to not bray in his oldest friend's face and Peggy could only shake her head again. Some things never changed. His watering eyes drew her gaze to where Steve was deep in impassioned conversation with a vaguely familiar-looking woman dressed in simple, classy elegance. Exasperated with her pal, Peggy shook him and her tone was derisive. "Howard, really, what could possibly be so hilarious? Steve's well-spoken and passionate, why shouldn't he argue his point with one of these plummy idiots?"

Trying to get a grip on his amusement, he mostly succeeded, but when he spoke, his voice was high and tight with the effort. "It's not that, Pegs, I like the guy. Neither of you have figured out who that is, have you? Peggy, Peggy, Peggy, I love ya, but you're just so hopelessly British sometimes." The glower made him bark out a laugh he tried to wrestle down. "That's Chelsea Clinton. Only child of former President Bill Clinton and hopefully future President Hilary Clinton. Figures you bring along a smart aleck as smart as he is small."

"Oh," was all Peggy could manage lamely, finding herself hoping that Steve really did know what he was talking about. Still, they seemed to be agreeable, the former Fist Kid actually laughing at one point and offering a hand, which Steve shook willingly enough, trading a smile with the woman before wandering back over to his date.

Howard could only gesture in drunken wildness and stagger away, still gripped by his own hilarity.

"He's completely mad, but he's essentially family," Peggy sighed affectionately and Steve chuckled.

"Y'know, for an event you said would be 'horrid', this hasn't been too bad."

"Yes, you've been quite popular."

It had been fun, there was no doubt about that, but Steve hadn't had nearly the time he wanted with this intriguing beauty with her sly, dark eyes and enigmatic smile. So, steeling his nerves, Steve stepped into her personal space-- setting his glass of what no one needed to know was only 7-Up-- and smiled up at her. "Yeah, it was fun, but I miss spending time with you."

Once again charmed by him, Peggy set aside her glass as well, turning her body to his, and resting her hands lightly at the rounds of his shoulders. "Thank you for that, Steve. Who knew a dreaded errand and an even more dreaded party was to turn out to be enjoyable?"

"Night's still young," he flirted hopefully and she chuckled, giving into the magnetism between them and leaning in even as Steve slipped hands around her waist to draw their bodies closer.

"So it is."

But it was not meant to be.

"Can I--," began an unknown woman's voice; cut off by a startled sound of alarm, echoed in both Steve and Peggy as they were abruptly soaked in icy liquid, multiple champagne glasses shattering to the floor at their feet. In the shocked silence, the young woman stammered in abject horror, "I... I... oh shit..."

Astonishingly, Steve began to laugh. "Now that was an entrance!"

With the initial shock past, Peggy accepted that she had just been soaked in champagne moments before she would have kissed her unexpected date beside the nibbles table. The finishing school part of her brain was relieved, but mostly she was disappointed. The young woman was still stammering incoherently and Steve's chuckles suddenly stopped. "Oh, hey, you're hurt. Let me see your hand."

Another woman, older, more harried and glowering murderously at their horrified assailant, looked as though she were moments from storming over and tearing the poor girl a new one. And Peggy could no more resist the stranger's sweet face wracked with guilt and tears and splashed champagne than she could ignore what Steve had already noticed, the wash of blood on her left hand. With a hand on each of their backs, she coaxed to get them moving. "Allow me to offer a place to clean up and first aid, won't you?"

"No, you shouldn't... you can't... I'm so shafted... I can't believe I did that..."

Her stammering stress was both heartbreaking and almost perversely humorous. The latter came more strongly to mind when Steve snorted with sharp humor. "Oh please. Smart-mouthed little shit like me? You really think this is the first time I've been covered in something edible? Or in this case, drinkable?"

The hiccupping snort of shaky humor from the traumatized server warmed Peggy's heart as she practically shoved the pair of them into a different elevator than most people in the tower would ever see.

"Where are we going?"

"Oh, I live here as well. There are some benefits with being friends with the ridiculous man who built this towering edifice of ego."

"Guess that would explain why the elevator opened without you touching anything," the stranger said in a calmer tone, there was an edge of near-hysteria still lingering in her voice. "Because of course you have to be friends with Howard Stark..."

"Trust me that he would have laughed as well, the giant child."

The trip five floors up took only moments and Peggy was thankful for it as their combined body heat was warming up the champagne unpleasantly.

"Better drinkin' then wearin'. Huh?" Steve teased as though reading her mind, giving their reluctant charge a shove after her. "Lighten up, you."

"What? Oh... oh, right. Thank you for being so nice, both of you."

"Make yourselves at home, please. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Fleeing to the privacy of her bedroom, Peggy gnawed her lip in guilt for the abrupt escape, but still found herself eyeballing the open door to her bathroom. Oh well, she'd already rudely fled from the strangers, making them wait while she showered could hardly make it worse. Stripping in a rush, she threw herself into a quick, hot shower and into casual clothing to towel out her rinsed hair even as she headed back to the living spaces to the sounds of laughter.

"A rock band, Steve? What are you, trapped in the eighties?" said the woman's voice, far happier and more animated than before.

"Hey, that's a lotta ink for... oh, hey, Peggy, come meet Angie Martinelli."

They'd both stripped to matching ribbed undershirts, a colorful print bra clearly visible beneath Angie's; as clear as the tapestry of tattoos from neck to wrist and gleaming dully through the whisper-thin cotton.

"Got pulled outta your dull party for a private show," Steve chuckled and then made a choked sound and Peggy watched in bemusement as his neck and shoulders turned pink, a glance over his shoulder revealed a face even redder. "I didn't mean..."

Angie's peal of laughter brought a smile to Peggy's face. "Well, seein' as you fixed me up," she crowed and waggled a left hand bandaged with clean paper towel and what Peggy suspected was a black bowtie. "Sure, I'll show ya."

With a twist as sinuous as any dancer, the young woman stripped the thin shirt off and laughed more at the stereo surprise and interest aimed at her.

"What? You think I went to all this trouble just for my own pleasure?"

While they couldn't help but look, Angie reached up to pull off the pair of bandaids on her right ear, revealing a flash of silver and loosened the careful bun she'd drawn paler brunette hair into.

"Been workin' on it since I was twelve, but you didn't hear it from me, y'know?" With ease came a native accent only slightly less thick than Steve's and a notably relaxed body language. The now-former server gave the impression that she could easily be at home onstage in all manner of capacities.

"You're an actress?" Peggy asked and got a brief, startled look before the blue-hazel gaze turned crafty.

"I've been known to perform, of a sort."

Now Peggy was curious about this stranger, her instincts not alarmed, but one could never be too careful. Steve was merely looking from one woman to the other in fascination. Then he burst out laughing. "Shall I go scare up a tumbleweed and let you two shoot it out at the OK Corral? Come on, ladies, we can all be friends, right?"

With the unexpected tension snapped, both women did feel a bit sheepish at the almost-confrontational introduction.

"Dancer," Steve chimed up again, tone calm and wry amused. "Formally trained, but you've got a swish that says you'd rather knock 'em out in a club or like setting. And you've done body work, live modeling or living statue, something like that." Angie blinked in bemusement and Peggy looked startled when his sly regard turned her way. "You used to be a cop, maybe military, and you've got the bearing of good breeding and training, Maybe some sort of finishing school? Neither of you has to confirm a word, I just like people watching. Artist."

"You're good at it," Peggy said, nonplussed, and he shrugged with that charming grin. "No details?"

"No ma'am. That would be invasive and I'm still in the process of trying to impress you."

And with that, Peggy found herself laughing again, the strangeness of her evening evaporating away.

"All right then, Angie Martinelli, actress of sorts, let me grab my proper first aid kit and get that hand bound up and perhaps a couple of clean t-shirts."

"Sure thing. Thanks English."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I picked this up again and finished it on a whim! It went a little weird at the end, but somehow it suits this odd universe I created. Enjoy and a Happy New Year!

To think that a mere fourteen hours ago, Peggy had begun what had started out as a very ordinary, boring day. Then Howard had whined at her to go on his fool's errand-- which she had agreed to more to get away from his shenanigans than anything else-- and she had followed a whim to see what all the fuss was over the jewelry-making geniuses she'd heard so much about.

Now, she didn't merely have one good-looking, mouthy, and utterly charming tiny New Yorker entertaining her, but two. 

Angie had chattered with Steve about mysterious New York things and locations, the two of them laughing like old friends, while Peggy did a more professional job of doctoring the long but thankfully shallow cut than ran from wrist to knuckle on Angie's hand. It was a bit like wrangling an excited cat, but at last the white gauze sat in stolid, boring contrast to the intricate tapestry of ink pressed deep into her skin. Around these two, Peggy sympathized with the gauze. This was ten times the activity and excitement this flat had seen since she moved here and just listening to these colorful chatterboxes had taught her more about this city than she had learned in months. 

"We're losin' ya, English," Angie noted with certainly, her sea-blue eyes cagey and sly. Then she nodded decisively and smacked her hands together to rub them vigorously. "Ok, you sexy people, since I clearly-- if not accidentally-- ruined your date, I'm takin' it upon myself to show you a far better time than the boring one-percenters downstairs. You," she pointed at a smirking Steve. "You gonna keep up?"

For some odd reason he wasn't annoyed by her bossy pushiness and instead crossed his arms and let the smirk deepen into arrogance. "Me and these boots can handle anything you dish up, homegirl." Chuckling, Steve raised a foot and tugged up his pant leg up to reveal his fancy shoes were actually heavy, thick soled, well broken in boots with a bit of heel, but nothing silly. "Amazing what effort and a tin of good, old-fashioned polish can do, huh?"

"You're on, then, Rogers. How about you, hot stuff? You up for a good time?"

The jarring contrast of them to her tugged at something in Peggy; the matched smirks soaked in I-dare-you, Angie's tattooed grace, Steve's daring artist's hands. Their differently-shaded blue eyes were warm and bright, and for the first time in far, far too long, Peggy opened her mouth and took an insane leap of faith.

"Yes."

\---

That settled, they'd left Peggy to change, their exciting chattering carrying through the apartment. Her heart was racing in an intoxicating, nauseating cocktail of fear and anticipation. So she dug deep into her stuffy wardrobe, aghast at how... boring it had grown over the years. Really, the stolid comfort of uniform could go too far. But... but maybe she could use that to her favor. In moments she'd grabbed a simply-cut black waistcoat and pencil skirt that clung to her like a second skin and spotted the battered cardboard box of her college memoirs that she unceremoniously dumped onto its side. Inside hid many of the colors she'd left behind and felt a surge of delighted nostalgia for. 

Stripping, she put on better underwear and grabbed a snug t-shirt from the box in a red so intense it almost glowed and stretched low enough over her ample cleavage to be distracting. Dark hose and her sturdiest heels were added to the spontaneous ensemble and she tucked her ID, A couple credit cards, some cash and her building ID into her bra for safekeeping. This was like being in her twenties again, rebellious and ready to take on the world. Snatching up another pair of shirts that caught her eye, she squared up her shoulders and strode out to her fate. 

"Do I pass inspection, ma'am?"

The pair of them looked over and paused before breaking into stereo grins and applause. Peggy nodded regally, raising a brow when she was fairly certain she heard Angie mutter, "lucky fucker."

Rather than take offense or ask for clarification, Peggy took it as the back-handed compliment it was clearly meant to be and tossed a bundle of fabric to each of them. Angie made a marveling, girlish sound at the white baby doll tee-shirt made from delicate yet sturdy cotton lace. Steve cracked up over the stretchy shirt colorful with the Union Jack.

"Neither ever fit me right and that second one is proof of Howard's perverse sense of humor. Consider them down payment to a promised night of fun."

"Done!" Angie crowed and pulled the lace over her colorful skin and skivvies. "And it lets the ink peek! Good eye, English."

Still chuckling, Steve shrugged and stripped his tank top showing, while he might be a little guy, what there was of him was solid. The sapphire flashed against his pale skin, catching Peggy's eye just as the man himself had done and they shared a warm look before he pulled the flag-patterned shirt on. No one commented on the neat stripes of old scars. His longish blonde hair was a mess from what looked like a rough toweling off anyway, so he raked fingers through it to make it look tousled and playful. Posing, he made a simpering face, clearly trying not to crack up.

"Check it out, I'm the lead singer of a boy band."

Neither woman resisted laughing at his antics even as he shrugged back into his dressy jacket, disheveled now from being carefully wiped down. 

"So let's hit the streets already!"

In the elevator, Angie looked down at the low heeled Mary-Jane pumps on Peggy's feet and gave her a smirk. "Those are your comfy shoes, huh?"

Without missing a beat, Peggy arched a brow and sassed back, "I assure you that I can climb a building, go for a 30 mile hike or kick the shit out of someone twice my size in these shoes."

"I'd pay good money to see that."

"Now, stilettos? Those are a bit of a challenge..."

"What sorta finishing school did you go to anyway?" Steve asked sarcastically and Angie laughed while Peggy just looked at him wryly.

From the elevator, across the ostentatious lobby and the lake of concrete around the foot of the tower to the curb, Steve and Angie argued over plans while Peggy just followed them with bemusement. There was a pause to hail down a cab and Angie telling the cabbie to, "head for Brooklyn while we figure out our shit," and they were off and running at the mouth again. Eventually, Peggy leaned forward and quietly asked if the cabbie had any suggestions for a good place to eat before a night out.

"What are you lookin' for?"

"Something a bit wild and not-corporate. I get quite enough of that in my day to day life."

"The big schools are always a good place to start, if you keep to the fringes, y'know? There's a cluster of places south of Pratt where you can pick and chose."

"Wonderful. Thank you so much."

Peggy's companions took no note of the exchange, surprised when the cab pulled over and she quickly swiped her credit card through the cabbie's reader with another thank you and a hefty tip. Hopping out, she looked around and decided to let her nose decide.

"What the hell are we doin' here?"

"Eating," Peggy laughed and wandered eastward until the savory smells of a burger joint drew her in. "I'm not going to indulge in shenanigans on a half-empty stomach and, frankly, I'm dead tired of living as though I never leave that damn tower!"

The scruffy teen taking orders was more than happy to chat Peggy up and sell her on the house special. With that much cleavage on display, he was pretty well captivated. The place wasn't fancy, but it smelled good and didn't look too slick and fancy. She agreed to find a table while the others would shuttle food. When the trays arrived, the burgers were massive piles of food porn that left little room for conversation. Peggy was quite certain she was never going to get the grease and condiments out of her good watch, but there had been no stopping the river of the stuff from running down her arm. Stifling a pleased belch, she mopped her face off and pulled out her lipstick to fix the damage.

It amused her that both her younger companions seemed caught up in the display.

A quick check assured her that everything was up to par and she snapped the compact shut decisively. "Very well then, hooligans, we are fortified. Lead on."

Outside, they hailed a cab again and climbed in.

"You sure you want some local color?" Steve asked.

"Certainly. Give me something to impress Howard with. I assure you it won't be easy."

"That sounds like a dare to me," Angie chortled with an evil grin. "Okay, you want a story? I'll give ya a story."

And they were away.

\----

The corner the cabbie dropped them at was a dismal spot that seemed to contain little more than warehouses and the faint reek of busy docks everywhere. It twigged Peggy's instincts and even Steve seemed wary, but Angie took off with an arrogant stride.

"Place seems a little rough trade for me," Steve muttered and Peggy snickered and took his hand to follow their guide towards a well-lit building. At least that part was reassuring. And the cell reception was amazing. Peggy knew this because she was ready with the panic button built into her fancy-ass mobile.

They felt it at the edge of the pool of light, a shimmy in the ground below them that pulsed with a life of its own.

"Despite myself, I'm intrigued."

"Yeah, me too."

Behind the door Angie held open was a bar, spacious and well-patroned without being a cattle call. The massive bouncer greeted her like she was family, including a bear hug that left her feet dangling at his knees. "Junior! How the fuck have you been? We've missed you."

"Tried goin' legit for love, but kinda blew chunks earlier today. Think you can spot VIP for the poor saps I accidentally doused in champagne over at Stark Tower?"

The man's gaze swung to her companions, who stared back flatly, determined to show they weren't out of their depth, nosiree. 

"Jeez, is the shrimp even legal?"

"Sure. Legal as it is to rent a monkey suit to a gorilla."

For a moment, the odd little group of four seemed taken aback, even Steve, who had uttered the sarcastic, confrontational words. As the bouncer probably massed more than the trio combined, it was understandable.

"Confident little fucker, aren't you?"

The bouncer seemed more curious than ready to pounce and Steve shrugged, chin up and shoulders squared.

"Women don't like a guy who's not. I could be a mouse or a miniature lion, so I went for the latter. Yeah, I get my ass handed to me for overconfidence sometimes, but I'm gonna get beat up anyway, right? Might as well live my life on my own terms."

Peggy clung to his hand and didn't interfere. It had been obvious from the start that this small man could take care of himself and she respected that. She also found his confidence enticing as hell. 

With a delighted guffaw, the bouncer let them pass and handed over a trio of colorful wristbands. "You're alright, son. Have a good time, all of ya. And, Junior, you ever wanna come back, that scumbag Jack finally left." 

"You don't say. Hmmm."

The rest of the staff knew Angie as well, and the other two didn't pursue, but headed for the bar instead. Fortified with well-made drinks, they commandeered a barstool and huddled close.

"So, my miniature lion," Peggy said with teasing admiration, "I enjoyed the display back there."

Steve scuffed shyly at the floor for a moment and then straightened up with his brash confidence. "Oh yeah? That's good."

She'd slipped an arm around his waist, where he stood at her hip, the stool bringing them eye to eye. "We were interrupted earlier."

Catching up with Peggy's intent, Steve looped his arms around her, relishing the heat of her skin. "We were at that. But I'm a persistent guy, stubborn even. Possibly even pig-headed. So how about a take two, baby?"

His flirting made her chuckle and meet him halfway for a soft, experimental kiss that both parties enjoyed. When they drifted apart, Peggy thumbed his lower lips to take away the faint smear of red she'd left behind. "Glad to have gotten that out of the way. Feel free to do that whenever you like."

"Sure thing," Steve agreed with a grin like the rising sun. It took them another moment to notice Angie hovering nearby, watching and looking like she'd been holding her breath, trying not to draw attention to herself.

"Didn't want to interrupt again," she said sheepishly and they laughed. "Pool or dancing? We can totally do both."

"I'm decent at pool," Steve said with such relaxed aplomb that the women suspected he was either bluffing or was going to shark every table until egos ran red.

"Not in this skirt," Peggy protested. "But I do like to watch. I'm happy to provide moral support. Go make the challengers cry, you two."

After getting a fresh drink, Peggy wandered over to watch, the balls already scattered over the green felt in their haphazard fashion. Steve's opponent was a tough-looking woman that he put up a good fight against, but was beaten. He came over for a consolation smooch, smiling against Peggy's lush mouth. "I like this. Thanks again for asking me out."

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine, rest assured, handsome."

"Would you be terribly disappointed in me if I sharked someone worthy of it?"

"Impress me, my good fellow!"

Angie lost a game as well, and then Steve just squeaked a win when a gaggle of frat boys strode in like they owned the place. There was a flash of evil grin across Steve's face and he waved over the guy who was next on the little blackboard and spoke into his ear. The guy startled and cracked up, accepting something Steve passed him as the frat boys approached.

"You up for a game?" Steve asked, feigning nervous bravado and one of the newcomers smiled nastily.

"Sure thing, twink."

The slow decimation of the rude jerk was a thing of beauty, Steve playing him like a master. The first game, Steve doled out a careful, bare win, pissing the jerk off over the lost money and the eager crowd. Conveniently, there were no names on the board and it seemed like Steve's original opponent was subtly keeping it that way. More money appeared for round two, and Steve lost that one, puffing up and demanding a rematch, throwing down more cash than Peggy had thought him to be carrying. Arrogance won out and the balls were racked up once more. Even as Steve leaned over and winked at a grinning Peggy, his body language eased and the balls scattered with a resounding crack. 

Every solid ball was quickly and expertly cleared, delighting the gathered crowd into cheering while the frat boy gawked and seethed. Steve saluted him sarcastically as he collected the bet and the jerk stalked off, leaving the winner to split the cash with the first opponent, as per some agreement between them, clearly. The guy was quite pleased and took the pool cue, shaking Steve's hand before they parted. The lingering congratulatory kiss was rather more involved, Peggy working over his soft, sensitive mouth, enjoying his taste mixed with his drink and the teasing caress of his tongue against hers and the corner of her mouth.

"Gonna have to show up jerks like that more often."

"It was a marvelous show. How did you know you'd have the help of that scruffy character?"

"Didn't. I noticed frat boy caused some tension in the locals, so he's clearly been trouble before and I treated him accordingly. The guy who gave up his spot in line? Told him I was gonna shark the asshole and I'd split the winnings with him."

"Generous," she murmured, holding him close and drinking in that warm smile.

"I suppose. But I didn't come here to pool shark."

Angie bounced over, grinning fit to split her face, nearly tripping right into them in her enthusiasm. "You sharked the frat assholes! I love you, man!" A wet, sloppy kiss somewhere in the terrain of nose and the corner of his mouth made Steve startle, but he kept his grin. "Those sons of bitches have been a thorn in this place for ages. Come on, hero and his lady, you're definitely gettin' the VIP treatment now!"

Angie didn't give him a chance to refuse, but grabbed a wrist and dragged him off, a laughing Peggy in tow.

Past another mountain of bouncer, this one a dead ringer for a leg-breaking mafiaso-- who was just as delighted to see Angie as the first-- was a wide metal staircase lit with a forest of twinkling Christmas lights above their heads. The throbbing pulse of what had to be music thrummed in the black walls and through the soles of their feet. Faint, grotesque shapes danced in the darkness of the walls and hovered above the lights like creatures waiting to pounce.

"The guy that put this place together back in the seventies had a warped sense of humor," Angie explained as they passed a few other patrons, sweaty and exhilarated and intoxicated in one manner or the other. "Sorta themed to the seven circles of hell, if you can believe that. The theme's been mostly forgotten over the years, but the staircase here is a good mood setter. Okay, hot people, get ready!"

The music was a rising pulse, a wall of sound that burst over them as Angie shoved open a pair of heavy double doors and they were spilled into a massive underground chamber. It seethed with chaotic lights and gyrating bodies, the music in control over all of it with screaming intensity. 

It was quite overwhelming and Peggy needed a shove to get moving, letting herself be sandwiched between her companions to another bar where Angie greeted the bartender, also delighted to see her. With a quick hug and a gesture at her ears and then three fingers held up, pairs of foam earplugs were handed over, for which Peggy was immensely grateful. Dulled now, the thundering beat of the music grabbed her heart rate and rode it like a wild mustang, cluing her into why the patrons had looked so, well, stoned!

Angie handed over shot glasses of something as clear as water and no one was fooled into thinking was that innocent. With a comical expression and a thumbs up, she coaxed them to shoot it.

Peggy was somehow not surprised to find that she was the only one who was nearly doubled over by the rocket fuel strength of the stuff. And with a heated belly and watering eyes, she was prodded into the throng to let loose.

\----

The night became a dark blur, speckled with flickering lighting, the press of bodies, wandering hands and kisses, the liquid heat of alcohol peeling away inhibitions. Too drunk and far too taken with her date and the wild free spirit that had led them to this crazy place, Peggy did her best to ignore her outraged sense of propriety and just go with the experience.

It was easier than she expected it to be.

There were moments of sanity speckled between dancing and liquor. Peggy wobbly-legged and exhilarated from the insane dance space in the basement, found herself in a quieter part of the club, willing to be plied with something tasty and sweet and definitively boozy. Her companions were in some sort of spaghetti western showdown over a line of shot glasses and a bottle of vodka that stank of hot peppers. As if the picture of a giant scotch bonnet on the glass wasn't a dead giveaway.

"Where the fuck are you puttin' it?"

Angie's awe wasn't feigned and Peggy's rich chuckle was soulful harmony to Steve's burst of laughter. Smacking his lips with relish, he turned the glass over and slammed it to the table to regard her lazily. 

"Ang, I had more medical shit done to me before I was twelve than most whole families get in a lifetime. In several lifetimes. And I metabolize fast."

That had led to another bar, this one reeking of old cigarette smoke and crowded bodies, where Steve put on the sweetest, most guileless face and proceeded to fleece the pool tables like a tiny, vicious, hyperactive shark. Luckily, Angie staged a distraction to let the other two slip out and beat feet before catching up, laughing uproariously over the whole thing. She'd managed to bloody up her hand again, but gave in with mixed good graces to Peggy's insistence on fussing over the wound while they soaked up some of the booze with tiny, delicious tacos.

Things became ever more blurry, a mechanical bull with Angie perched on it with the tenacity of a flea, whipping her lacy shirt around like a lasso. Steve flushed and amused with lipstick prints all over his cheeks and some sort of karaoke ringing in their ears. A laughing cab driver, a drafty roof with the city rising like brightly lit canyons around them, the pile of their bodies warm and comforting. Locations blurred together, conversations a meaningless cacophony, the taste of booze and the random blending of their bodies the only thing that kept them grounded. 

\----

Peggy felt awful and yet utterly relaxed. Not unlike a really exhausting workout. One that smelled better than the sewer she apparently fell asleep in. If not in than near; Peggy hoped for the latter. Dizzy with a screaming hangover, she tried to steady her reeling head enough to take stock. It wasn't a bed beneath her, but the surface was as soft as it was lumpy, so at least there was that. There was more lumpy warmth piled all over her… and a warm body she was sprawled half over. 

Ah yes, that.

There were fractured memories seeping in like water to a sponge, of stumbling about, too drunk to care, of kisses and wandering hands running well past anything remotely resembling propriety, of her small lion welcomed to her as a lover with open arms. Despite the panic and consternation, Peggy had to smile against the heard plate of Steve's sternum. He was as angular as she was soft, their bodies comfortably intertwined, the sound of his heart steady beneath her ear, as was the rush of a slow, deep breath as he stirred.

"Hey, you're up. Mornin', gorgeous."

That was it, just that warm acceptance, his sprawling arms curling up to loosely embrace her. A groan from far too close by made Peggy twitch in surprise, but she could barely peel her sticky eyes open. Damn contacts…

"That was some crazy fucking night," Angie's gravelly voice chuckled and she made a high-pitched stretching sound that matched the stirring of another body a few blanket-thicknesses away. "Well, hopefully I was just rubbin' a few out over here and not crampin' your style. Not that I would have complained about gettin' in on that action, 'cause hubba-hubba!"

Despite the absolutely ridiculousness and humiliation of the situation, Peggy had to snerk with laughter, pressing more closely to Steve's body.

"Pig," Steve teased affectionately, lashing out with his left hand and earning a girlish sound of mock outrage. "Man, I hope one of the local wildlife gave me a couple rubbers..."

Peggy cringed more and tried to make herself small and slightly invisible. To no avail as Angie stirred and leaned bodily over both of them. A foil packet crinkled between her fingers.

"Well someone rifled Bob's stash, since half of the damn things are strewn across the floor. What I want to know is... where the fuck is Bob..."

Now Steve laughed for real, jostling Peggy where she was half smothering him, hand over her face in embarrassment. "Who the hell is Bob?"

"Well y'all musta met him at some point, since we're all dogpiled in his damn bed."

"I remember slipping a couple twenties to a leering, disreputable character," Peggy mused, clearly without the wherewithal to panic the way she perhaps should be over the insane situation. "Hair like a green rooster?" 

"Yeah, that was Bob."

Steve pressed slim, sensitive artist's fingers into Peggy's wrecked hair and tenderly massaged her scalp, making the woman moan like a hussy. "You bought some dude's bed out from under him? Mercenary. I like it."

"You make it sound so sordid."

"Sexy lady, I think we passed up sordid about…"

Steve laughing voice trailed off and Angie picked up the thread of the tale with a wry tone.

"About the time we found the stray dog? I think it might be downstairs. Either that or David's started barking again."

Standing on wavering feet, Angie seemed completely uncaring that her sole article of clothing was a pair of Y-front briefs in dark blue.

"Did you steal my underpants?"

For a moment, Angie seemed nonplussed before she grinned. "Sorry man, I had to pee at some point and musta swiped them. This isn't a good doss to be bare-assed in."

"You're gonna make me go home commando. That's just mean."

"Not my fault blue's my color!"

With her tattoos like a shirt and Steve's stolen underwear the only thing on her person, Angie sashayed off muttering to herself.

"Why the fuck didn't I just take you two to my stupid little nest? Oh... right... ladder."

A quiet broken up by the ambient noise of the building around them fell over the lovers.

"So," Steve drawled out with a nonchalance he only half felt. "That was fun."

Peggy had to splutter in amusement before gathering herself to raise her aching head. Rather than meet Steve's gemstone eyes, she found herself tugging at the silver chain around his neck until she could settle the wavelike pendant at the hollow of his throat. "I'm glad this survived the shenanigans."

"These too," he murmured softly and stroked a thumb over the back of her ear to touch the stud in her lobe. "Though your neck seems to be as bare as the rest of you."

She only just looked up into that magnetic gaze and was about to throw what little propriety she might have left to the winds and kiss him, when there was a familiar trill of a mobile phone nearby. "God dammit, Howard."

The tinny strains of 'Do You Think I'm Sexy' finally led her to Steve's pants and her phone.

"Must you always hack my phone and put inappropriate things on it?"

"Hey missy! You missed your curfew! You're grounded!" Howard instantly sassed her with a laughing tone over the connection. "Did you get yourself laid? Awesome! Were they great? Do I have to give the shovel speech?"

"For the love of all things holy, Howard, stop talking."

While his bray of a laugh couldn't help but make Peggy smile, she was embarrassed all over again. With a mock sniffle, Howard continued to needle her with an exaggerated, "I'm so proud!"

"Ugh, sure thing 'dad'. See if I bring the lad by for you to torment."

"Ha! Your mouthy little entourage can hold their own!"

"Well, that's certainly true."

Peggy drank up Steve's quiet chuckle where she had once again laid her head on his narrow chest.

"Aaaaaaaaanyway, glad to know you're alive and well, hotshot. Y'know, since it's nine thirty."

"And?"

So accustomed to being aggravated with Howard, Peggy's hungover mind missed her cue completely.

"And? The meeting with Tokyo?"

Horror blasted through her, making her sit up fast enough to earn a gurgling hiss of agony and a complete disregard for her nudity.

"Oh god, that was today!"

"Hey, you don't sound so good. Need me to send out the National Guard? 

"No! Dear lord man, what do you think I did last night?"

"Do you really want me to answer that? Listen, as long as you're safe, you let me handle Mister Shinobu, okay?"

"Oh Howard, you are an obnoxious wanker oftentimes, but I still love you. And yes, I'm fine so far as I know."

"Flattery and all that. Take care of yourself!"

"I will."

Steve sat up as she dropped the now-silent phone and nestled their heads together for comfort. "Was your missed Tokyo important?"

"Dreadfully so, but nothing to be done for it at this point. I could never sit in on a meeting looking this awful nor get there in any sort of even dimly polite time frame. And where are we anyway?"

There was some sort of railing and a huge open space broken by shafts of sunlight beyond the gap in the ratty hanging fabrics acting as scant privacy to their borrowed space.

"Canarsie, East Flatbush. In a ratty old warehouse whose location shall remain top secret," said Angie's disembodied voice from close by, making her companions look around warily. "You'll be lucky if I let you walk outta here without blindfolding you. You get a pass, Senor Artist, because I'm guessing you understand the perilous nature of the housing arrangements."

"Ah," was all Steve said and nuzzled Peggy's ear. "Just forget anything you see here. 'Cept maybe me. And maybe our guide."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Rogers!"

"I beg to differ," Peggy hummed, finally giving into to the urge to nuzzle at Steve's smile, but not actually kissing him. "Will you humor me in delaying the morning after until I don't feel like the floor a taxi cab? I can offer outstanding accommodations and eatables, even a view to die for. A change of clothes could even be brought in."

Grinning like a smug fool, Steve scooted close, twining his arms around her sturdy, voluptuous frame. "Well, there is that rich weirdo you work for who offered all that hospitality, even if you did break curfew."

Groaning pitifully, she rested her head on his shoulder and enjoyed his warmth, his touch. "Where did I find you again?"

He merely laughed and held her close, enjoying what felt like the beginning of something wonderful and strange.


End file.
